He poked at the salad served with shredded cheese. He tasted the applesauce carefully. He looked at the green Jell-O, but decided against it, settling instead on a bowl of canned spinach. School cafeteria food stands out as one of the more challenging aspects of American society for Muse and three other Bantu children recently resettled in Blacksburg through a U.S. State Department program.

The children were born in United Nations refugee camps along the Kenya-Somalia border where their mothers, Khadija Soumo and Sitey Hussein, have sought safety for the past decade from brutal oppression in Somalia.

Somali Bantu people are descended from slaves brought to Somalia by Arab traders in the 19th century and in Somalia are still denied their basic rights and even sometimes killed.

The children started school, perhaps their first organized school experience, on Oct. 4. They speak no English and have lived all their lives in tent camps. To them, chicken nuggets and pizza are as puzzling as learning to pump their legs to move a swing back and forth, something Halima Mohamed Osman and Mariam Mohamed Muse, both 8 years old, have been working hard to master.

"The cafeteria staff have been wonderful," said the girls' second-grade teacher, Alicia Spitzer. They never give the children pork dishes, off-limits for Muslims, and each day let them sample some of every entree and side dish. So far they seem to prefer fresh fruits and unadorned vegetables to fried food and sandwiches.

The children were placed in grade levels that corresponded as closely as possible to their ages to help them develop socially, but teachers say it will be some time before the children get the academic benefit of their grade level.

"I was worried I wouldn't be able to meet their needs, but everyone's helping," Spitzer said, including students.

Students in Spitzer's class voted to change their mascot from a dog to a rabbit out of respect for Mariam and Halima's religious beliefs, which classify dogs as unclean.

The transition for the girls has been "pretty smooth," Spitzer said.

The first week they mostly watched and listened, but started to participate during their second week. One of their favorite activities so far has been the Hokie Pokie.

"They like to pull on my sleeve" and ask to do the dance, Spitzer said.

The children also love gym class where the universal language of play trumps words, especially Thursday when Halima and Mariam played a spirited game of turtle tag with their classmates.

Crystal Tanyag, a Virginia Tech senior majoring in early childhood education, worked with Halima and Mariam on Thursday on a game that involved tracing and measuring their feet.

She said she was nervous about working with the children at first, but it's worked out really well despite the language barrier.

"They're really fun to be around. They repeat everything you say. They're little mirrors," Tanyag said.

Many of the students pitch in as buddies for the Bantu children, helping them navigate the school bus, mealtimes and recess.

Seven-year-old Isabel Eaton lives in the same neighborhood as the Bantu children and has struck up a friendship with them. Nur often rides his bike to her house for visits. She said it's "not a big deal" that she can't speak to Nur in his native Mai Mai language.

"We mostly ride our bikes," she said.

Locally there are no interpreters to help the children adjust. An interpreter from Refugee and Immigration Services in Roanoke came to school with the children on their first day, but in the two weeks since then, teachers and students have been pretty much on their own.

The Bantu children are clever, the teachers said, but with no English skills, they often can't participate in the more complex class activities such as learning about Susan B. Anthony.

To speed up their language acquisition, the school's one English as a Second Language teacher, Louise Turner, and her many volunteer tutors constantly design lessons and games for the children. They also work on coordination-building activities with blocks and art projects.

Eleven-year-old Nur has showed a real aptitude for building, said his fourth-grade teacher Sharon Newberne. And having him there has been a learning experience for the other students.

"It's so enriching to have him in the class" because the other children pitch in to help him learn, Newberne said, adding that one of Nur's classmates had self-esteem problems but now feels useful because he helps Nur.

Nur's brother Muse is the most reserved of the Bantu children. His music teacher, Samantha Quesenberry, said she has yet to hear him say a word. But he does give everyone a devastatingly charming smile.

The Bantu children have learned to say a few important English words over the past two weeks: "hello," "bye," "bathroom, please."

But the most heartening words the teachers said they hear from them are "See you tomorrow."